


Cabin Fever

by DennisCrumb



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: A little, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bonding, Drunken Confessions, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Fluff, Humor, Mostly just Loki and Val being trolls and assholes, Ship shenanigans, Smut, Trollholes, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-17
Updated: 2018-03-17
Packaged: 2019-04-01 11:58:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13997853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DennisCrumb/pseuds/DennisCrumb
Summary: "Where's the booze?" she directs the question at Loki whose attention is elsewhere occupied.Loki hums ignorantly, barely shooting her a glance. "Oh. I'm afraid all we have is one case.""One case," she echoes unconvincingly.





	Cabin Fever

**Author's Note:**

> This one shot had been sitting forever in my drafts, since Ragnarok first came out, so I thought I'd finally post it.

"Where's the green duo?" Valkyrie asks Thor, checking the latest task she had been made to oversee as they head on their long journey.

"Loki and Banner are taking record of our provisions."

Valkyrie turns back to look at him with a frown. Loki isn't the type to do such simple grunt work- with Banner of all people no less - although Thor is unperturbed, she is curious.

She heads to the kitchens' storage rooms, wondering with increasing suspicion of all the things Loki could get up to with the smallest intrigue.

"Hey, Val," Bruce smiles when she enters.

Valkyrie greets him warmly, her eyes scanning the shelves until she spots a shade of green and black amongst the boxes and jars lined up.

They aren't working together so much as Loki barking off items and quantities while Bruce watches him warily.

Valkyrie peers over Bruce's shoulder at the list of food and drink, gaze scanning to her main interest. Her eyes narrow at one particular shortage.

"Where's the booze?" she directs the question at Loki whose attention is elsewhere occupied.

Loki hums ignorantly, barely shooting her a glance. "Oh. I'm afraid all we have is one case."

"One case," she echoes unconvincingly.

" _That's right_ ," he says smoothly and far too pleased for her liking. "One case, twenty-four bottles. One for almost every month sounds right before we arrive to Midgard."

Valkyrie scoffs though internally she is panicking. She puts a hand on her hip and tilts her chin up to belie the ebbing horror spreading through her, all his for scrutiny when he turns to face her. She might be more adept at anticipating his blows but he appears to already know her body's tales. "No. No, that's not possible. The Grandmaster keeps all of his ships stocked with alcohol."

Loki saunters closer until they're standing shoulder to shoulder, his lips pressing together as he fights a burgeoning smile. She glares up into his half lidded gaze as he bends down to whisper in the shell of her ear: "this one isn't."

He's lying to her. She knows this. In fact, he doesn't bother to hide this knowledge as he straightens his posture, attention still on her, with that same smug smirk. Gritting her teeth, Valkyrie watches the gleeful bastard all but skip out of the room.

The moment the door swishes closed she turns to the boxes lined upon the shelves. Pilfering a whole box of alcohol for herself in this time of anguish and great loss was, admittedly, a pretty shitty thing to do. But Valkyrie has done her good deed for the week and the Asgardians that picked up swords at least had their families and king to seek comfort in. As much as she finds herself to still deeply care for her people and a newfound respect for Thor, Valkyrie still has some priorities ahead of her before they arrive to Midgard.

She senses Bruce's eyes on her as she searches through the boxes for the booze, it is neither heavy with the weight of pity or judgement, he doesn't say anything to which she is thankful for. He looks as if he might need a drink himself or two to calm himself as he looks around at a loss.

After a few minutes of looking around she comes up empty. Shoving a box of spices back with an irritated growl Valkyrie fixes her eyes on Bruce.

"The little troll has it hidden," is all she says, frustration giving way to anger as she slowly realizes she is to become the target of his penchant for tricks and games.

Bruce nods. A tiny, empathetic tilt of his mouth, "I'm afraid so." His tone says that of knowledge of what's to come; The God of Mischief decking it out with the Valkyrie of Zero Bullshit Tolerance- unless it was her own self she was fooling. And even she does that poorly nowadays since befriending two Royal Messes.

Tonguing the inside of her cheek, she nods resignedly. "Yeah..." Valkyrie drawls. "You're probably going to have to-"

"Stay in here 'til it's all clear?"

He's getting to know her moves as well as the Hulk although Bruce has never sparred with her. "Yep."

"Got it. Please don't put a hole in the ship."

Valkyrie strides down the hall with single-minded determination looking for the slightest hint of black and green.

She searches the least trafficked commons rooms first. Looks for Thor who is usually in his brother's or Heimdall's company. She checks everywhere until she thinks 'duh' and makes her way to the library.

He's lounging on a bright orange C-shaped chair, book in hand that has no title.

"Damn nerd," she mutters under her breath before plastering on the biggest, false smile in the galaxy. "Hi there....pal...buddy... _friend_ ," she nearly gags on the word. He appears to be the only one here yet it is still early in the morning. His gaze sweeps over her before returning back to his book. He is entirely too pleased with himself knowing she would take the bait.

She stops at the foot of the chaise, hand on her hip. "Where is it?"

His mouth pulls down and brows rise comically. "Where's what?" he inquires politely.

Valkyrie is on him before he can react, planting one wedged boot on his chest. "I do not play games."

"No games here," he squirms under her foot in an attempt to sit up. "And we must share the alcohol, it is a long trip after all and it will help to ease the cabin fever that will inevitably set in soon. I'm sure someone taught you the value of _sharing_."

Sneering, she leans forward with her foot still keeping him trapped between her and the chaise. "This coming from _you_? Besides, I'm not fond of sharing."

The heat of his fingers encase her calf, the muscles tightening under his touch. "Your booze? Your time? _Yourself_?"

Whatever his intentions are, which she can't discern from a man known as the Prince of Lies, escapes her. But she won't let him get the upper hand. If he's already finding himself bored than she will find all the wrong ways to entertain him- as he will her. And she will not let him get to her, that will only spell more headaches for her in the end.

At his attempt to move her boot off of him Valkyrie shoves her foot and the chaise tips backwards. His eyes widen before narrowing again with mirth. "None of your business," she tells him coolly. "You gonna give me a drink or do I have to beat the shit out of you again?"

"I don't know," he muses, "do you fight better or worse when sober?"

She glares. "At least I do not employ cheap tricks," she shoots back.

"I count forehead flicking cheap and a bit demeaning."

She can't help but chuckle lowly at that but stops herself short when she can't decide if it's at him or with him after he takes her own jab so lightly. It irks her. He pisses her off and amuses her at the same time, it's a particular kind of humor she's picked up in all of the crappy bars she's been in. Plus, she's Asgardian and a Valkyrie so perhaps it's been embedded in her long before then.

Clearing her throat, she fixes him with a glare and warns, "if that box of alcohol doesn't multiply by fifty soon then someone is gonna get _hurt_."

"Lady Valkyrie," Loki chides lightly, "what makes you think I have the power to do such a thing?"

Rolling her eyes, she removes her boot and the chair falls back down, thumping loudly on the floor. She slugs him in the arm and he winces, rubbing the sore spot with a glare.

"Don't touch me," he snips agitatedly at her, "and I don't have friends." The statement is said in such a matter-of-fact way it's no wonder why he hasn't gained any.

She snorts at that, finding his attitude amusing. "Right. Why don't you bother your brother?"

"He's busy."

"And I'm not?"

"Not really. No."

"Korg?" she tries.

At the sound of his name Korg peeks his head out from behind one of the shelves. She observes him with shock, his rocks having been turned several different colors, like the children have gotten to him in his sleep. She's about to turn on Loki to scold him when Korg speaks.

"Do you like it?" he asks excitedly. "Loki did it. Thanks, friend!"

Loki's mouth turns down, displeased.

"Ha! Some trickster you are," she grins when Korg leaves. "Shouldn't you be doing something more productive with your time?"

Loki runs a finger over his mouth feigning thoughtfulness, she can't help the way her gaze flickers to the motion. She groans internally. Valkyrie doesn't handle being worked up well, booze or junk food or sex- in that order - being her go-to on Sakaar when she wasn't hunting for potential gladiators. But any chance of those options are severely limited now due to rationing and grieving men and women, their eyes only set on their surviving families and new home. She idly fantasizes about having her Control Disks and its remote on hand to exact revenge on her teammate.

Despite his current determination to get on her bad side the two actually get along very well compared to their other fellow travelers. They both enjoy their solitude too much and when in need of company it's in small doses with even smaller company.

Perhaps he is busy when alone. Simultaneously plotting their downfall and his comeuppance. She wants to give him the benefit of the doubt in the same way Thor gave her. But like her, perhaps he needs a little push from someone.

Valkyrie dashes forward and smacks him in the head earning a startled jump from him. She places both hands on either side of the chaise and he presses back, eyes wide, it pleases her to hear his breath hitch in distress. "So, basically you've got nothing going on?" she guesses.

"Am I _boring_ you?" Loki asks suddenly, annoyed. It draws her from her thoughts to see him looking up offended at her dazed look.

She smirks. "Unfortunately...yes."

He scowls.

Turning on her heels, she saunters over to the exit and stops, turning back around to see Loki's curious glance on her. Possibly wondering why he hasn't been pummeled to the ground yet.

"See you later."

 

****

 

Cabin fever begins to set in a month into their journey.

As was his word, Loki provides a few bottles of ale. It's enough for The Revengers and a few Asgardians whose earned their splash by regaling tales on the Battle of Asgard. But it's not enough.

More than once she irrationally thinks this might be some sort of intervention on her new friends' parts. But it's a farfetched idea so she chalks it back up to Loki being an lying, mischievous asshole. Even Thor loudly expresses his disappointment with the lack of ale.

"Are you positive this was all there is, brother?" Thor would ask every single time with those damned puppy dog eyes.

Loki would nod solemnly, his gaze always landing on her. "Yes."

Bastard.

She glares and huffs at his poor attempts of being civil. There was once a time she believed herself to be the biggest asshole in the room.

Valkyrie creates a schedule, something she hasn't done in centuries. In the early morning she spends her time in the sparring room, mostly with Thor, their blows often starting in lighthearted goading which eventually turns serious but ending in laughter. Both grinning madly at their aching bones and bruises of hard work. She also trains with Loki - surprisingly it's him that comes to her with the offer rather timidly - and it requires her to be a lot more alert in comparison to Thor. She still defeats Loki with as much ease as she does his brother. The former always has an audience, the kids or Korg often squirming excitedly on the floor as they watch their king blush and fumble.

But with Loki she finds herself preferring a much more private affair. Their fights are uglier and revealing to their darker nature. With each blow comes a bright exposure lit up for the other to closely inspect during exercises. She tells herself the blush on her cheeks and heaving chest are from exertion and nothing more. That it's the open admiration both brothers can't fight as they watch a Valkyrie in action, Loki's dissection is harsher and his expectations higher. Not only because Loki has a way of playing dirty, intimately, but also like he's in a battle of wills as much as physically. She's shared more breath and sweat and caresses with him than with anyone she's taken to bed with in the matter of weeks they've sparred.

With Thor it's all knuckles and elbows and shins, their close contact often becoming playful but never as charged as it does with Loki. He manages to pull it out of her no matter how impersonal she tries to make it. Every fighter gives something away in battle, especially when sharing blows with someone familiar. She hopes her actions aren't as telling as Loki's when they dance around each other on the mat. She suspects she knows exactly what he's doing, but with him it's never known. Maybe that's why she doesn't stay away, grossly intrigued in finding the bottom surface of something other than a bottle. Maybe that's why he does the same even as she kicks him on his ass with a laugh more often than not.

Despite the full schedule she has in place for herself, cabin fever gets to her as quickly as everyone else. She eventually finds repetition to be just as achingly slow and painful as doing absolutely nothing. She is woefully too sober for this shit. The vessel is too large to be so quiet yet most of its passengers stick to their rooms or mess hall.

Staying in her room staring at the bare wall with only the accompanying low hum of electrical wiring and appliances is just as maddening. With so much space and time to occupy her thoughts often become unsavory. Wordlessly, The Revengers along with Korg and his pal Miek all gather in the same space, a brightly colored and decorative commons room far enough from sleeping quarters to become their own little hangout.

Valkyrie is in the commons lounging around with Bruce and Miek; the latter on the table next to the pile of exuberant rocks. She's in the middle of a conversation about Midgardian politics and economics when the door swishes open. Her attentions turn to him - as it normally does - when he enters the room.

"Would anyone care for a drink?" Loki suggests. He snaps his fingers, procuring a bottle of wine from thin air.

"That's like asking if anyone would care to _breathe_ ," Valkyrie mutters.

She has yet to find where he's hidden the rest of it. If he hasn't snapped his fingers and made it disappear. Each time he sees her it's like he knows and it makes her angrier.

"I prefer to drink alone," Valkyrie says flatly, purposefully not looking at him even though she senses his intense gaze on her.

"You drink everywhere," Korg corrects innocently.

Valkyrie arches her brow. "Do you celebrate bringing about the destruction of your siblings every time?"

Loki's jaw clenches and he sends a heated look her way that makes even her cool exterior harden. He bares his teeth in a forced smile, eyes shining with ease. She quickly relaxes though, no more intimidated by him as his brother. She's seen too much of them.

Striding over to the bright yellow round table she relents the seat she has her feet kicked on and he sits there between her and an empty seat. Bruce shifts uneasily across from him but makes no move to leave. She doesn't miss the way Loki pointedly refuses to look at the man either.

She knows the conflict there from stories told by Thor and Bruce. She wonders with some amusement if both men are unaware of how uncomfortable they make the other. She laughs under her breath, Loki catches it and arches a brow.

"Are we drinking straight from the bottle or...."

"Wait. On second thought, drinking for the sake of drinking is boring," Loki says.

 _Liar_ , she thinks, he probably makes an entire event out of getting wasted. Much more decadent and extravagant than her fast track to complete obliteration. "I disagree."

"Of course you would," he winks. "How about we play a game?"

She notices he directs this question only to her. Bruce has went back to the notes he's been writing in a journal. Korg and Miek are lost in their own worlds.

"Pass," she yawns.

Loki frowns. "Why not? Besides, I'm breaking this bottle out a little ahead of schedule. The least we can do is entertain ourselves."

Valkyrie slowly exhales through her nose. She wonders if he is always this transparent. "No truth or dare," she quickly says, relenting with annoyance.

"Fine."

Thor barrels in then, loud and boisterous with Korg. His face lights up as he sees his favorite rejects all seemingly bonding.

Thor takes the seat between Loki and Bruce and Korg sits beside her.

"What are you all talking about?" Thor eagerly inquires, dropping his kingly status with ease.

"We're thinking of a drinking game," Valkyrie sighs impatiently, lips pursed.

"A good friend of mine from Midgard - Lady Darcy - taught me of the game spin the bottle."

Bruce puts up his hands and hums negatively while shaking his head. "I am not kissing Korg."

"Stabscotch," Valkyrie offers the round table in a bored manner. She doesn't care what game they play as long as they get to drink- and soon. However, the sudden gleam in Loki's eyes has her straightening her posture, on full alert.

Bruce frowns worriedly, twiddling his thumb and forefinger over the rim of his glasses. "I'm sorry, _what_? _Stabscotch_?"

"Yeah, you know..." Valkyrie drawls with her eyes fixed on Loki. "You grab a knife, put your hand on the table and splay out your fingers, and stab at the space between them increasingly fast." She shrugs. "Sometimes you can make up a rhyme or a song to help find your rhythm, _and_..to make it even _more_ interesting, before you turn you have to take a shot of a _nice scotch_." The last part is of her own idea but where was the genius of a game with scotch in the name with none provided.

Loki grins approvingly and Thor drums his hands on the table giddily.

Bruce's frown only deepens and he shakes his head at his friends' antics. "Pass. I'll take my shot with all my fingers intact, thank you."

Loki vanishes the bottle of wine and conjures up a beautiful scotch in a clear glass square bottle. It makes her mouth water. In his other hand appears two shot glasses.

Bruce sighs heavily and takes his glass, running a hand down his weary face as he shakes his head once more. "I can't believe you guys are about to do this."

"So!" Thor clasps his hands together with a resounding smack that has Bruce rolling his eyes. "How many stabs must we be required to do for each turn?"

"Ten," Valkyrie answers over Bruce's groan. "We take a drink and then it's thirty stabs then forty and so forth, upping the amount of scotch up to four fingers once we get to forty stabs and so forth."

"Excellent," Loki says. He moves the shot glass and bottle to the center and unsheathes a dagger from somewhere on his person, stabbing it onto the wooden table.

Korg and Miek make a sound resembling excitement.

"Thor..." Bruce begins with a huff, already exhausted with the entire thing before it even begins. "Do you really think this is wise! Y'know, considering..." he extends his index finger to Thor's eye patch.

"All the more reason to drink," Thor jovially comments.

Valkyrie leans back in her seat and crosses her arms. "First ale and then wine and now scotch, trickster? That's a lot variety for one box."

Loki stills for a moment before smoothing on an easy grin. "Ye _p_ ," he says, popping the 'p', refusing to look at her. "The box was already opened. I assume someone purposely put in a variety of drinks in that one box."

Valkyrie hums unconvincingly.

"Loki is very skilled at this game," Thor says fondly, his beaming smile seeming to have an effect around the table. "The only one who could come near to besting you was Hogun..." he trails off somberly in slow realization, his smile turning bitter at the thought of his deceased friend at the hands of Hela.

Loki glances at his brother, smiling empathetically. For the first time in a very long time he feels as if he and his brother are on equal terms - or so he desperately hopes. It certainly puts into perspective how similar their little group is in the things they've lost. "Well, now we just have to see who can best him."

"I can," she challenges.

Loki easily takes the bait. She'd learned on Sakaar how incredibly translucent he can be with his eagerness to please, even if it were for his own gains in the end, she noticed he took pride in satisfying others almost as much as himself.

Muttering small encouraging words to himself, Korg takes the dagger first and shakes his shoulders to relieve some tension. He plays out his big, Rocky fingers to the best of his ability and smiles at the group, half excited, half nervous.

"Twinkle." _Stab_. "Twinkle." _Stab_. "Little." _Stab_. " _Star_." _Stab_. "How." _Stab_. "I." _Stab_. "Wonder." Stab. "What." _Stab_. "You." _Stab_. "Are." Korg takes one last jab and looks up, grinning.

Loki, Thor, and Valkyrie exchange looks as Korg down his shot. Thankfully, they all go around the table incredibly fast, excluding Bruce and Miek. She knocks down the first glass easily, the liquid tingling on her tongue but otherwise having no effect. When it's her turn again she gestures impatient for the dagger, her eyes on Loki's.

"Twenty on this go," Loki reminds her.

Sneering, she doesn't even bother looking down. "How. Many. Bottles. Did. Loki. Take. Playing. Stupid. Little. Games..." Valkyrie begins her rhyme slowly in her easy slurred cadence, her gaze never leaving his. "If. He. Doesn't. Say. Then. I'm. Gonna. Stomp. His. Face."

Loki's grin slow falls off his features. He swallows nervously and looks away, tapping his index finger against the glass.

Thor laughs at their silliness.

Valkyrie and Loki are competitive, not for the sake of the game so much as their spectators' instigating spurring them on. Thor has long since stopped due to him being commander of the ship, they couldn't afford more losses.

They stop halfway to two hundred and are thoroughly pissed drunk. Korg had found a radio and the electronic beat thumping makes her fingers vibrate where they lay on the table. Warmth spreading through her chest, she smiles.

Valkyrie makes the next shots using what is left of the scotch, vanilla creme, cherries, and a spirit from Korg's home in Ria she finds in the back of a cabinet. A spirit so vile it's illegal on some worlds considering that it could leave you gasping for air if you happen to get the slightest whiff- its smoke more deadlier than its liquid fire. Miek passes out and slides off the table. They chase it down with blue jello which hardly does anything to soothe the ache in their stomach.

"It's like I just did a billion crunches," she groans.

They have a blade throwing contest in which a floor to ceiling tapestry of Grandmaster is the target.

Bruce remains in the corner watching them both out of amusement and concern. She suspects he'd rather take their company as opposed to being alone with his thoughts on an alien ship full of non-human refugees.

Valkyrie kicks Loki in the ass at one point and he goes toppling over, unfortunately she does as well. Doubling over in laughter, she clutches at her sides.

She stops when her vision becomes hazy around the edges and kaleidoscopes dance around her vision. Her insides burn and her head swims dangerously.

Her and Loki idle down the long, winding halls, bumping shoulders and laughing at nothing. She's long since stopped keeping tabs on where their friends went. Valkyrie can't remember the last time she was a happy drunk. Maybe it was her confession to Thor all those months ago about not drinking to forget anymore, Hela in ashes, the noble path she has set herself on, or the company. A mixture of all of these things swimming dazedly in her head and sends sparks jumping and crackling between her rib cage like a fizzy drink.

"The lying lackey is lonely," she mumbles, misinterpreting his content sigh, the narrow word filter she has shrinking in her drunken state. "I have a remedy."

"Do tell."

"Solution? Stop being a _dick_."

"With a bit of magic that can be arranged," he coolly responds.

She barks a laugh at that. "You are infuriating."

"As are you."

She hums in agreement. "But you are brilliant."

"You think I am brilliant?"

She shakes her head at his surprised yet obvious pleased response at her praise.

She blacks out after that.

 

****

When she comes to it's the dead of morning and she finds him leaning on her doorframe with that trademark smirk of his, ankles crossed and hands clasped behind him. She throws him a weak glare and her pillow for good measure before searching blearily for her clock.

Three familiar bottles line her windowsill. The orange large, rectangle shape of the ale. The thinner and more delicate looking red wine bottle. And lastly, the yellow orb shaped whiskey. All are filled with flowers with rose petals that seem to glow.

It's all uncomfortably sentimental.

"I hope the flowers are to your liking," Loki says in a hushed tone that steadily grows closer. "Unfortunately..." he sighs, "I didn't have any barrels or wheat on hand so-"

Valkyrie swivels around and Loki quickly makes his escape as she hurls the other pillow at his head; it's for the best really seeing as she's struggling not to snort and scream at the same time.

 

****

 

A few weeks after that incident she waltzes into the mess hall all sweaty from her training with Thor.

Her morning exercise has done nothing to calm her nerves today. Instead, she's wired. Like drinking coffee in the middle of the night. It leaves her antsy and twitchy.

Whenever she was in her blackest mood and didn't have booze or money to buy it that's when she would stuff her face with sweets and junk food. It wasn't the best substitute but it satisfied her until her next score.

Entering the mess hall, she piles her plate with everything hot and greasy: Half a soft, crusty loaf of apple bread, thick slices of juicy meat, cheese cubes, grapes, and black berry tea.

She doesn't eat with the other Asgardians or Sakaarans, not quite ready to integrate herself into what the former consider proper society yet. She heads to the library where she knows Loki to be.

He's at one of the desks in the corner, next to the chair he sat in last time she was in here.

"Valkyrie."

"Troublemaker."

He smirks. "So...did you manage to find the fifty-one boxes of alcohol I've apparently hidden from you?"

She swallows down the insult threatening to spill from her mouth with her cup of tea. "Not yet," she quips.

Valkyrie tears off a piece of her loaf and dips it into Loki's steaming soup when he's not looking. The white sustenance is creamy and spicy and containing some type of leafy greens and bits of what tastes like chicken.

Loki turns around with a frown and reaches for his spoon. With lightning speed, she flicks the round end her way and brings her fist down upon it. The spoon goes flying in the air and hits him in the chin, bouncing off and clattering in his bowl leaving a splatter.

Her shoulders shake with silent laughter as he dares stare at her like she's the only childish one at the table. She hears Bruce snort somewhere and she bursts into laughter, tears welling up.

"If you only wanted company all this time you could have just said so without your games."

Loki sniffs. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Whatever."

 

****

 

"What is your real name, Valkyrie?"

"Why do you wanna know?"

"As your friend I feel I have the right to know."

"Well, keep those bottles coming and maybe it will slip out."

 

****

 

Valkyrie eventually finds her way into his room.

It was been disappointingly easy as she'd followed him one evening from the library.

Valkyrie shoulders past him when he opens the door and slides in his room so casually it manages to impress him, his eyes wide and jaw slack. He watches her inspect his tiny, surprisingly humble room, probably a suggestion on Thor's part to keep his brother's ego in check. The space is stacked with books and scrolls, she nearly slips on a wayward pencil, and notices with approval that it doesn't smell like moldy, wet paper and ink.

She pulls open one his drawers only to find nothing - no booze at all so far, not even a shiny, silver flask - which she'd already suspected when he'd made no move to stop her exploration.

His face alarmed, however, when she moves towards the bed.

"Force of habit?" he asks, snarky. "Intruding on other people's space without so much as a greeting?"

"Bounty hunter," she simply answers with practiced flippancy. She flops down on the corner of his bed and leans back on her elbows. It is not an invitation, rather a show of her lack of regard for his precious personal space. Another act of open defiance of the prince's heavily guarded privacy. Why should he be the only one to rile people up?

"Former bounty hunter. Now you're just a-"

"Puh- _lease_ do not say hero or I might just barf on your sheets."

His nose scrunches up, mouth pulling down. "Gross."

She laughs. Her hand brushes against something flat and hard under the sheets. Curious, she twists around and peels them back to reveal a sketchbook.

" _Ooh_ , what's this? Stole one of Grandmaster's magazines?" she grins and sets the pad on her lap.

Loki stutters and tries to grab it but she holds it further away. "Sorcerers are expected to be great with their hands," she says, "and you're a skillful knife fighter. I'm betting you're quite the artist as well?"

"More of your deductions due to your bounty hunting prowess," he sneers.

She ignores him and carefully opens up to the first thin page. It is a landscape of Asgard- more specifically it's of the palace. She hums approvingly, flips the page a few more times, most of his sketches are either scenery or notes on magic.

She smiles genuinely and looks back up at him. "These are impressive."

"Thank you. Now-"

The next portrait she sees makes her heart wriggle itself free to dive right into her stomach.

The Allmother Frigga stares back at her with all the kindness and wisdom she remembers of the sorceress. There's a cleverness in her eyes that pop off the page and a smile on her face, one she can tell is from a very fond memory where she must have looked down upon her youngest son with unconditional love.

Loki goes still next to her, the bed dipping as he sits with a small sigh. Valkyrie swallows nervously, her fingers fluttering to the corner of her page, caught between the decision of staying or flipping the sketch over.

"She's beautiful," she says.

"Yes." The tone of his voice is reminiscent, a rare bleeding thing that leaves her chest aching.

"I grew up admiring her, wanting to be as strong as her." Although it appeared on the outside as a different sort of strength - The Valkyrie's physicality to Queen Frigga's mental prowess - it was all the same to her. It was in the way she walked and talked, commanding the fear and respect and devotion of anyone lucky enough to be in her presence. "You look just like her."

Loki scowls darkly and looks away. "I do not."

"You do too" she lightly teases.

Loki stands then, throwing her a nasty look. "I can't possibly resemble her seeing as how I'm _not_ hers."

Valkyrie frowns with weariness, refraining to roll her eyes. At this turn of events she guesses no one has told him that for a very long time, possibly since he was a boy. They're all mulling over things that should have been swept away, like the bloody dirt in the wind of old wars. But being confined in this space with no home and an indeterminate future for some (like Loki) she can't entirely blame him. It appears as if maybe the cabin fever is catching up with him too.

"There's this thing called attunement," she begins, "where you spend _all your life_ around someone - like your _mother_ \- and you adopt their expressions. You see them when they're happy and mad and sad. Obviously, she made quite the impression on you. I thought I recognized that know-it-all smirk."

She watches as his anger ebbs away at her words, is replaced by sorrow and regret. They exchange brief, albeit awkward glances where he smiles apologetically and she simply shrugs in response.

Gingerly, he reaches over and takes the pad, shutting it and tossing it back on the bed.

When he turns his back she inspects him freely and unashamedly.

Gripping his wrist, she pulls him over and he collapses beside her. He sighs, feigning put upon but she's beginning to realize he craves her company just as she his. They seek each other out in increasingly frequent moments for no significant reason other than being in each other's company. To forget as these walls close in on them, with shouting and teasing like playground children after they get up from a nasty scrape, pain forgotten as they jump from swings on a stupid dare.

She smooths her hand behind his back and rests it between his shoulder blades, a lazy, happy sigh escapes her.

Startled by her open affection, he turns to look at her, wishing he had half the bravado. He'd risk matters of the heart in any other situation, would tear the universe solely on the drying, hollow bones of his ire to be noticed. 

He exhales and she tastes him on her tongue which darts out to sweep over her bottom lip. His eyes flicker down at the motion, his own mouth parting open invitingly for her taking. His fingers brush her thigh before settling on his abdomen, hands clasping together as if restraining himself. Her own hands sweep up his back to curl her fingers around the nape hair.

"I am beginning to like where this might lead to," he grins cheekily.

"Me too."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Loki turns on his side and leans up on his elbow to stare down at her, eyes flashing mischiveously. His hair tickles her face, his body warmth welcoming in his cold, stuffy room. "And where, exactly, do you want this to go? Hm?" She feels his fingers brushing under her tunic and she sucks in a breath, his fingers light and teasing.

"Preferably?" she whispers, urging him to lean closer. Without warning Valkyrie encases him in a headlock. She gets on her knees to secure him as he flails helplessly. " _With a fucking drink_!" she screeches into his ear. "Where are they!?"

"You are mad, woman!" Loki snarls.

She was sorely tempted to give him a nougie.

They wrestle to the floor, both trading below the belt worthy insults and barbs.

The door swishes open and they both pause.

"Brother, I- _oh_..." Thor's voice wavers comically, a goofy grin splitting his face.

Loki springs up like a snake in a can, red faced and flustered. "Brother!" he says as equally awkward. "I can explain."

Valkyrie nods in greeting from her spot still on the floor. "Hey."

Loki huffs irritably. "We were just-"

Thor holds up his hands, his grin large and wide. "Say. No. More." Chuckling lowly, he backs out of the room with an exaggerated wink. The door shut and she can hear him rasp his knuckles against it, his fond mutterings could be heard all down the hall.

Loki smooths down his hair and fixes his green tunic while glaring down at her. "Childish!"

Valkyrie kicks in the back of his knee and he crumples, colliding clumsily with the desk. He shoots her a withering glare over his shoulder.

"That's no way to speak to your elders," she chastises.

 

***

 

On one of the many nights she can’t sleep she wanders to the command room. She stares out into the expanse of space when she hears Thor making his way towards his makeshift throne.

“What?” she groans, half exasperated and annoyed. He'd been grinning annoyingly non-stop since the day he'd found them in Loki's room, it was funny at first to watch the trickster light up like the Hulk after he'd been soaking in the hot tub for way too long, but it had also been directed at her regularly as well.

“So. _You_. And _Loki_ …”

She tenses defensively at the softness in his voice. The sentimentality. “What about?”

“Be gentle with him.” It’s a plea and warning and approval all in one.

Valkyrie snorts.

“You should heed caution as well. He will try to push you away.”

She takes a reluctant swig of her water instead of replying.

 

****

 

They’re in the same commons room as they have been for nearly three months. The Breakfast Club plays on the wall courtesy of a holo-disk, she laughs as Korg mouths the intro with a solemnity that could rival the most seasoned theater actor back on Sakaar.

Bruce pokes his head, eyes alight with wonder. “You guys have this movie here? In _space_?”

“John Hughes is an intergalactic treasure,” Korg says by explanation.

Loki stomps in then, careful not to hit Bruce on his way in. He casts a glace at the holovid and makes a show of rolling his eyes, Valkyrie is no fool, she knows this film is right up his all.

She frowns as he walks past her without so much as a glance. She had spent her afternoon looking through his room again when he was preoccupied with his brother, maybe she left it a mess in her frustration but he could just snap it clean should he choose. He truly is driving her slowly insane as the days meander by.

Trailing behind him as he makes his way to the bar she stops, resting her chin on his shoulder. He shrugs away and she shoves an elbow to get him to move. They’re about five seconds away from swatting at each other when she spots a pamphlet peeking behind a jar and swipes it.

He snatches it up before she can get to it and she scowls.

“The hell kind of ship is this…” Loki mutters as he inspects the pamphlet, photos of cocktails and fruits and ice cream gracing the mustard yellow pages. “Is it made for an army or for pleasure?”

She leans against him, their shoulders pressed together, her voice hushed. “Oh, I’m sure by now you know what a pleasure ship looks like?” she teases, tongue poking between her teeth.

She watches, mesmerized, as his pale skin turns a lovely shade of pink. She enjoys catching him off guard and turning his cool and calm exterior into a flustering, gaping mess.

“You are far too cheeky for your own good do you know that?” he tilts his head closer, eyes still on the menu. “And as I recall, if I know what one looks like on the inside then you most certainly do.”

“Too drunk to remember,” she evades. “And as for being cheeky, I’ve been told that at times,” she nods. “Usually right before I hauled said person’s ass for cash.”

Loki chuckles at that.

She pushes back the mess of curls that fall in her face as she ducks her head, pointing a finger at a photo on the menu. “I would kill for a Sakaaran Sunset right about now,” she groans her troubles to him, an increasingly unconscious occurrence due to their constant jesting. Not whine. She doesn’t whine.

He hums in fond agreement. Although the Sakaaran Sunset was aimed towards women it did have a higher percentage of alcohol compared to your average ale. And overall it just tastes better.

“What’s a Sakaaran Sunset and is there anything alive in it?” Bruce calls out from his chair. He’s pouring over some notes that she’d taken for him after translating a couple of texts over the past months.

“I promise to tell you if anything you are about to consume contains anything alive in it.” Valkyrie tells him humorously.

“It is the equivalent to your Midgardian’s Long Island Ice Tea and other beverages,” Loki explains.

“Ah, okay. Sign me up then!”

Valkyrie’s features pull down thoughtfully as she opens and slams the cabinets when they come up empty. “First, we have to see if we even have the ingredients in the dump, if not maybe we can skim a few…lemme see if- oh-ho! Hell yeah! I should have everything to make it except-”

She turns to Loki who already has the bottle in his hands.

“If I may?” Loki intervenes, gesturing for her to sit down on one of the couches.

"Oh, okay." She smirks. "Cool with me, Mr. Bartender." She flops back down, legs splayed under the coffee table and tilts her head obligingly.

She watches him take out the dusty jars containing preserved fruits from the counter and a few glasses which he sets to rinsing, flicking his fingers and gathering the rest of the supplies while he sets the cups down. Loki chops the fruit with an exaggerated flourish that makes her roll her eyes but doesn’t stop the tug on her mouth. He drops the minced cubes of apples, pineapples, and mango into a small glass bowl, pouring in tiny vials of lemon and orange juice. Tea flavored liqueur. He drops a couple of ice cubes in the glasses and they rattle pleasantly to her ears. He tops them off with the liquor and adds a general helping of the assortment of fruits in the glasses.

He searches under the counter and produces a tray and sets the glasses on them along with the rest of the fruit and other ingredients, bringing them to the table with a smug look and passes them out.

She reaches for hers and Loki slaps her hand away with a warning look. He tops off her glass with whip fucking cream and a cherry opting to be a sweet bastard and the sentiment does something funny to her insides.

Instead of draining it within seconds as she normally does Valkyrie takes a moment to appreciate the way her gums buzz, cheeks tingling, the burning down her throat. The underlying warmth of herbs and honey of the liqueur complimenting the sweet and tangy fruit. She grabs a spoon for the remainder of fruit sticking to the bottom and eats it with a pleased hum.

She looks up to find Loki staring at her, a smile on his face that manages not to look smug or haughty or sinister. She allows herself to smile back, a small but genuine affection bubbling inside her. “You make me drinks now and think you are in my good graces? You are still infuriating.”

He smirks. “As are you.”

"This...is fantastic," Bruce says, sipping the drink slowly, savoring it. "And not alive. I think I can survive off these for the remainder of this trip."

"You'll have to fight me for it," Valkyrie smirks.

They finish their drinks in silence and eventually Bruce scurries off to somewhere when the film ends, not after glancing at the both of them shooting glances at each, Korg and Miek hot on his heels as they ramble on about a pool table in the commons a hall over.

Loki brings out another bottle, a pretty, pink and green glass in the shape of a flower.

"How the hell do you drink this?" She asks, on the verge of risking the clear liquid until he snatches it back.

" _Careful_ ," he chastises. "You drink from the large petal, here, at the front. The cork is clear and difficult to find. See?"

Valkyrie scoots her chair closer and squints her eyes at the thing. "Wha- y'know what? I don't care, just pour it into my mouth."

They drink entire thing, passing it back and forth with increasing clumsiness and nearly spilling the spirit into their eye as they tip it forward.

“I lost all of my sisters,” she mumbles an hour later into his shoulder. “And…and something more,” she whispers to herself. “You do not want to lose him again.” It’s a statement. A forewarning.

She feels him stiffen underneath her. “You care so deeply about Thor to threaten me, Valkyrie?”

Valkyrie flicks his forehead. “Do not mistake my words as simply worry for your brother - who so visibly and openly accepts you with an old aged love by the way - as an indifference for you, you idiot. I am telling you this after all.”

The harshness of her words spoken so gently seem to have an effect on him. His cheeks return their color and he looks away. “Well…” is all he says.

“I’ve finally rendered your silvertongue speechless.”

 

****

 

“I find it unfair that you know my name and I don’t know yours.” Loki presses not for the first time.

She groans. “You are relentless.”

“Hm...yes...maybe because, as I've said, I would very much like to know it.”

“I don’t make a habit of giving my name to sorcerers for their kinky dream spells, trickster.”

 

****

 

It is Bruce that pulls her from her room this time in the middle of night when falling asleep becomes difficult.

Wordlessly, he quickly leads her down the hall, his hand clenching anxiously around hers. She doesn't bother to ask him what's going on, thoughts lagging and tangling together in her drowsiness. She doesn't fully wake up until a muffled crash coming from further down the winding hall.

One locked room and two utilities closets down the hall and they reach the library.

Several Asgardian men - Einherjar soldiers by the looks of their berth - crowd around a table shouting. A shelf has collapsed a foot away resulting in a crushed chair and splintered wooden table. Books are everywhere and a few women and children brush past her on their way out the door.

“Why should we trust you!” one man says, his tone mixed with anguish and anger. “The moment they see you they will send us away!”

“Be careful how you speak to me,” she hears Loki threaten lowly, almost casually, a hint of venom laced underneath. There’s nothing regal about his voice or posture or face, it is full of promise for _more_ blood and _more_ pain. As if everyone on this ship hasn't suffered enough.

If Valkyrie were any other person she’d scold them with ‘is that any way to speak to your prince?’ But she could care less about the royal part. What she finds herself concerned with is a repeated cycle of hate and misery she doesn’t want to get sucked in. Or watch the spiral and downfall of someone she happens to _like_. An overwhelming protectiveness fills her despite knowing he is more than capable of handling his own issues. She is a Valkyrie after all.

“I’ll go find Thor,” Bruce says somewhat awkwardly, probably in response of coming to Loki’s rescue when both man generally steer clear of each other.

“Hey!" She calls out, earning a few of the crowd's attention. "Back off,” she drawls as she shoves several men out of the way. She doesn’t meet Loki’s heated gaze, instead she  leans on the desk he's occupying, shielding his view from the guards.

Their anger was inevitable and she’s aware that Loki must know this too given his collective state right now. To top it all off, being stuck on this ship for so long with a bunch of traumatized civilians and soldiers alike was bound to combust at least one good time.

“Stay out of this,” the apparent leader of the pack growls. “This is none of your concern.”

He’s much taller and wider than her and obviously attempts to use that as an advantage. She is undeterred.

“I was under the impression that it was.”

The man looks down at her with disgust and contempt, like she wasn’t worth more than the hair in his nostrils; which was, unfortunately shown to her. “Pretty little civilians should stay out of us soldier’s business,” he says with a warning finger pointed right between her eyes before addressing Loki again, “and you…”

Without a second thought Valkyrie leans back and surges sideways, bringing her elbow up to his face.

Three things happen all at once: The leader’s pack dash forward with clear intent for retribution. Loki slides around the table with dagger in hand. And a flash of gold eyes easily parts the crowd.

“Enough!” Heimdall booms, gaze flickering to both groups, he settles on the soldiers. “Is this what you do when our people have suffered a great tragedy? When we are looking to heal and mend you create anger and panic where there is none?”

The guard flusters, teeth clicking noisily. "This _monster_ -"

“Loki has both fired and banished me at every opportunity he had…” Heimdall speaks without anger, like he’s simply observing the weather. “If anyone should be angry at him it is me.”

Valkyrie sets an accusing glare on Loki who awkwardly rocks on the back of his heels, hands clasped together like an innocent choirboy.

“I assure you Heimdall it was only out of respect for your great power,” Loki laughs nervously.

Valkyrie elbows him in the side to get his attention. “Maybe you should stop talking,” she scolds under her breath.

"No more of it," Heimdall says, turning to the room at large. "There will be no more divide. Disperse! Before your king hears and sees of this."

The crowd and the guards quickly scurry out the door, taking their bloodlust and disappointment with them.

“Give it time," Heimdall says. "They will see what you have done for your people.”

Loki merely nods, speechless. Valkyrie thinks he looks a bit touched at the unnecessary kindness.

“You punched that man for me,” Loki says when they are alone, a ghost of a smile on his lips.

“Um…actually, I punched him for me. He was seriously disrespectful, I am still his superior.”

“Of course,” he replies, unconvinced. “Why did you not give him your title?”

"Why did you not give him yours?"

"Perhaps they are right," he says, gaze fixed on the floor in thought. "I am not one to be trusted."

Rolling her eyes, Valkyrie hops up on the table. "Cut the crap. I am starting to see self reflection is not your strong suit the way you spiral so quickly with your mood swings."

Loki scowls. "What do you know?"

"I know plenty. For instance, I know a couple of rejects and scumbags can get together and save the day. The needs of the many and all that mumbo jumbo..." She mutters disinterestedly.

“Did I?” he says, clipped. “Did I do it for them?”

"I dunno. Maybe you did it for yourself, what difference does it make?"

"It makes all the difference."

"Between what?" She huffs.

"Between being a hero and a monster."

She snorts. "Yeah. Okay. Have you been drinking without me?"

She makes a show of looking around but he looks entirely sober, his self doubt all on his own imagining.

"Maybe it is best if I don't go to Earth."

Valkyrie stills. "Are you serious? So what, are you just going to leave?"

"The idiot had made a good point. I don't see what other options I have."

"You can stay," she says firmly. "You can make amends. To your people, the people you've hurt...your brother."

Loki laughs, hollow and dismissive. "You're beginning to sound just like him."

Valkyrie scoffs in utter disbelief. “You truly are as cunning and clever as you are self sabotaging and dim-witted!” Her voice raises at the end and he reels back as if visibly slapped. And also a coward if you think running away for the rest of your life is gonna solve _anything_."

“No one asked for your glorious insight, _Valkyrie_.” he says darkly. "As I recall, you spent a good chunk of your life attempting suicide by bottle."

“Oh,” she whispers with dawning realization. “Is this…” she gestures between them, “part of what this is about then?”

He looks up at her accusation and has the gall to look offended. “Pardon?”

“You thought starting over and turning a new leaf would be easy or are you just without fight?"

"Whoever said I turned?" He lilts dangerously.

She shakes her head, not buying his act. "Whatever. Just try not to bring the rest of us down while your off throwing your next temper tantrum. You've basically just been given a smooth, clean pass from what I've heard of your last one and you're already looking to dirty it. A new one will be here for you next time, courtesy of big bro."

"Maybe wiping the slate clean is easier for you because everyone you know is _dead_!" He snarls.

Valkyrie stills. Watches his face fall at his careless words. She hopes he collapse under their weight.

“Brother?” Thor rushes through the library, worry etched into the lines of his face. "Are you all right?"

Seeing a way out, Valkyrie slides off the table and means to exit when his hand grasps around her arm, stopping her. She whirls on him, fist clenching, and she sees the overwhelming panic flickering through his mind of the mistake his pointed tongue has cost him.

She pulls away from him, mouth curling defensively. 

Thor looks at her, questioning, she ignores him and storms past.

Something aches in her chest when she sees Thor, expression seriously grim and intent as he pulls his brother into an embrace when she goes to leave. Loki allows it even in front of their audience and she takes a step backwards and into the hall, his gaze holding hers until the door closes.

Even here, enclosed in this ship with all of these lost travellers, she is still alone.

Half an hour of aimless wandering, lost in her own thoughts, she decides to finally trudge to her room.

The door slides shut and she leans heavily against it, her nails scratching the door as she slides down to the floor curling in on herself. She does something she hasn't done in a long time: she cries.

 

****

 

She doesn't speak to him for a month which means no beer or wine or spirits to drown her anger and sorrows. But that would require actually _seeing_ him and she doesn't because the coward has apparently went into hiding. Sometimes she daydreams about him getting sucked into the vacuum of space, others she hopes he chokes on the ale he's hidden and his own misguided anger. She takes pent up energy out on Thor and when she's well worn out she watches movies with Korg and Miek or talk about Earth with Bruce.

When she feels something like herself again - her new self - she begins to seek him out with a very well earned punch to the gut. She doesn't find him in the mess hall or library or commons, so she sweetly passes on the message to any who crosses her pass.

At the day's end a week after searching for him and giving up, her anger building to catastrophic proportions which only spells worst for his face, she goes to her room with a good, long nap in mind.

Untying and ruffling her hair and clumsily toeing of her boots, she frowns at the pleasant scent permeating her room. It's then that she sees the bottle laying on her pillow, surrounded by chocolates. She blinks dazedly, breathes in with a shuddering gasp as she pieces the sight before her together.

The little snake had been in her room.

Valkyrie sits on the edge and gingerly picks up the bottle which is neither from her bloodied home of Sakaar or the dusty remnants of Asgard.

She pops the bottle open, the top sailing across the floor. She sniffs it, hums at the mix of flavors teasing her taste buds. It burn deliciously, fizzles on her tongue, its scent warm and heady. She tastes citrus and honey and vanilla. Swiping the chocolates off her pillows, she props them up and sits fully on the bed. Refusing to let go of the bottle lest this is a trick or some lucid, fevered dream, she tears open the wrapper of one of the chocolates with her teeth and shakes the sweet into her mouth. The thick, milk chocolate shell giving way to caramel and almonds. She chases it down with the bourbon, cinnamon bliss that warms her from head to toe. She practically moans in content and laughs quietly to herself.

A knock at her door five minutes later interrupts her rare pocket of contented solitude. Huffing, she swings her legs off the mattress and addles to the door, not wanting the deceptive lightheartedness in her chest to dissipate anytime soon. She idly hopes it's Bruce. Hopes he isn't locked away in his room feeling as terrible and alone as she did an hour ago.

But it isn't Bruce. It's Loki. And the sight of him brings back the waves of aches he left in his wake, crashing through her lowered barriers.

"May I come in?" he asks sounding polite and subdued, as if he's done something he shouldn't. Which he had. But she's over it now. Now, she mostly just wants to hit him and let the last of his ugly words dissipate and she can move on.

She steps aside and gestures with the bottle for him to come in.

The following silence stretches too long for her liking so she ambles back over to her bed and pops another chocolate in her mouth.

His presence envelops her and she hastily turns around in surprise, gripping his shoulder to steady herself.

He takes the bottle from her vice grip and shakes it, frowning as it sloshes around.

She snatches it right back with a glare. "Blame the cabin fever..."

"And what if I blamed myself?"

The back of his fingers caress her cheek and her eyes flutter shut, a sharp ache in her stomach that has nothing to do with her buzz.

Valkyrie isn't a stranger to physical affection outside the bedroom, often sharing light punches of camaraderie. She drops her hand to his shoulder and pulls him in to an one armed hug. She tries not to shiver as his arms wrap around her waist. Valkyrie buries her face in his shoulder breathing his scent in.

"I'm sorry," he says, sounds like he means it, fear and anticipation shaking through his lanky frame.

She doesn't say anything, pulling back and affectionately slapping his cheek. He winces and jerks away, expecting something much harsher. But surprise punches are the best kind so she'll wait him out.

Loki attempts to snatch one of her chocolates and she glares, keeping the remainder in her lap.

He arches one delicate brow. "You are a mean drunk."

"Fucking _so_? You think Because you apologized you can waltz up in here and get some of this?"

"Valkyrie..." he sighs.

Spitefully, she shoves the chocolate into her mouth. "That's for-" she holds up a finger when his mouth turns up in disgust. She swallows the chocolate and starts again. "That's for being you," she bares her teeth in challenge.

Rolling his eyes, he mirrors her position, sitting cross legged. He bares his teeth too but only to gesture to his rather smugly. "You have chocolate..."

"Really?"

"Yes."

Leaning forward, Valkyrie kisses him. Hopes she smears his fucking apology chocolate all over his stupid mouth. It's a lot softer and slower than intended but she could care less because it feels too damn good. Her eyes flutter shut when he reciprocates eagerly but just as gentle. She needs gentle right now even as her minds screams at her that she's making a mistake.

He hums in the back of his throat, shivers under her as her fingers brush against his jaw, as if she's just electrocuted him. Chocolate and caramel and a hint of cinnamon on his tongue as he sucks her bottom lip, nibbling at the plump skin. She figures he already fucking ate some chocolate and he was begging for hers?

Bastard.

Loki licks his lips, panting against her cheek as she nips the soft spot between his jaw and neck.

She pulls away with a dopey, intoxicated grin and thrusts the bottle into his hands. “For the chocolate.”

Frowning, Loki takes it and downs a considerable amount.

She shoves him down on the bed and climbs over him, settling on his thighs. Loki keeps his hands to himself, on the bottle, squirming like a bundle of young, tangled nerves. 

She kisses him again, rougher this time yet still indulgently slow. Her nails rake down his neck and she wriggles against his growing erection, smiles into his mouth as a tiny whimper escapes in response. His breath hitching as she takes the opportunity to ease his mouth open, sucks on his tongue.

“I think this is my new favorite flavor of chocolate,” he murmurs against her mouth.

She wants him to crumble under her touch in the way she knows he’s capable of doing for her. She tightens her grip in his hair and cants her hips and fingers dig into her hips. The bottle clatters to the floor and she finds she doesn't care right now. His back arches, her name dying on his lips when she rocks against him again, his hands lowering on her ass in effort to steady her, to ground himself.

Valkyrie grips the back of his neck pulling him up so their foreheads touch in a tender gesture, kisses him slow and sweet once more. It speaks of adoration and yearning desire. Of loyalty. Of promise. A vow. His fingers slide across her nape, holding her there for a beat longer before she pulls away.

When he goes to kiss her she jerks back playfully. He does it again and she places a hand on her chest to stop him.

“Who said you could kiss me?” she demands, feigning anger.

“I thought that was an invitation…” he replies huskily, leaning forward again.

Humming thoughtfully, she waits for his telltale impatience before shaking her head.

“No.”

He stops, narrows his eyes confusedly. “No?”

She runs her thumb along his bottom lip, feels his quiet and unsteady breathing. “Nope. Unless you really want it?”

His brows furrow. “Sorry, have I not made myself clear?” fingers tighten around her hips as he rolls his up to press her against his very obvious erection.

Internally letting out a string of curses she does the difficult thing and pushes his hands away, separates herself from him.

"If you're still planning on leaving I don't really see the point in all this." Valkyrie shrugs. "If you want a distraction I suggest you find it in those boxes I know you're hiding."

Loki looks dumbstruck and angry and flustered, the fool of a jester, she thinks it's a good look for him.

"Valkyrie-"

"Get out," she tells him.

 

****

 

She finds the boxes.

Or rather, she finds him with the boxes going on Korg's message of the trickster toting them into the commons.

He's sprawled on an big, ugly purple couch with his boots propped up on one of the boxes, eyes alight when he sees her in the doorway, bottle in each hand. Loki tosses his head back and chugs from one of them, a grin stretching his mouth so wide she's surprised nothing spills out.

"I _knew_ you were lying."

He says nothing, merely watches her as the bottles clink softly and pours the remaining liquid in hand into the other until it's filled to the brim.

Valkyrie watches as a droplet of the amber colored liquid spills over, sliding down the bottle's neck and onto his long, slender fingers.

"You wouldn't want any would you?" He hums. "I remember you once telling me you prefer to drink by yourself? You seem to like to do a lot of things by yourself, I sure do hope you were satisfied from our last encounter."

She snorts. "You sure as hell wasn't."

With a self satisfied smirk, he crosses his legs at the ankle and raises the bottle in salute.

Valkyrie stalks over to where he's sitting, fire in her eyes. Her knees knock against his and he looks up, waiting to see her next move. None too gently, she wraps her fingers over his and tugs the bottle out of his grasp.

Instead of downing the entire thing in seconds like he expects her to do she lets it hang in front of her, the liquid pouring out and splattering between his thighs.

"Satisfied?" She drawls.

"No," he growls. "I thought I'd give it to you since you won't stop pestering me for it."

"So...you don't want a drink?" She tests, cocking her head.

His eyes move to the bottle dangling lazily between her legs.

"I have a thirst for something else."

Gently, she grabs a fistful of his hair for that frankly terrible fucking line and tugs him to her navel. She smirks. "Have a drink." Her voice is low and raspy with an underlying teasing that makes him shiver. She roughly presses the bottle to his lips, his teeth clicking against it.

Loki's lips wraps around the bottle, tilted just so he has to suck the nectar that's still topped up to the rim, his cheekbones prominent around the long neck.

He scoots to the edge of the couch and she lowers the bottle only enough so that the alcohol trickles out slowly. His hands wrap around her thighs for purchase. Valkyrie's breathing becomes unsteady as she watches him unashamedly perform. His green eyes flicker to hers and she sneers, stepping a few paces back and bringing the bottle to her lips. She downs the rest as he leans back and watches, pink tongue sliding over his bottom lip.

She smashes the bottle on the floor and relishes Loki's startled jump at the barbaric display. "You have more..."

Valkyrie clutches his neck. He twists and hits the side of her knee and she buckles momentarily. He means to pin her to the couch but she doesn't give him the opportunity, fisting his collar and dropping her weight to the floor leaving him off balance where he's half standing. She flips him. His body hits the floor with a loud _smack_ and he grunts in pain much to her satisfaction. Rolling upwards, Valkyrie's hand dashes for the bottle peeking from under the cushions when he wraps his arms around her chest. She headbutts him and they both fall back on the rug, his grip stays unrelenting. She twists them to the side and he gets an sharp elbow to the stomach for his troubles. He gasps and his hold slips.

They're both up on their feet, panting, a mad gleam in Loki's eye that she's sure to match.

Loki grabs the bottle and dashes over the couch with a breathless laugh and out the door. Valkyrie curses and yells painful and detailed threats, hot on his heels.

She doesn't realize he's lead her to her door until they're both already inside, the gleaming of the bottles still on her windowsills giving recognition.

She shoves him further in, fists clenching in his tunic as as she kisses him. The back of his thighs hit his mattress and another bottle is lost in their games and again she doesn't care.

"This is just cabin fever. And the bourbon. And the chocolate," she sneers with every press of her lips against lips.

Loki stifles a laugh, surging forward to kiss her, rough and slow until they're both starving for air. "Of course."

"Infuriating, annoying little..." the rest of the words get lost in another kiss.

He silences her with a kiss, his hands rough impatient and everywhere on her skin, leaving a blaze of hot and cold that makes her shiver. They get distracted with kissing for a long time, she'd almost forgotten how many different ways you could kiss someone, having normally done it when drunk. So she kisses him until her mouth buzzes like salt and tequila and the sting of a cracked rim of a bottle. And he gives back equally, leaves her neck sore and stinging with little difference from an all night binge, except the pleasant ache and tickling shiver of his breath on her skin. Until her entire body is high fever that has her writhing and rutting against him, waves of ache rolling down to her center.

" _Clothes_ ," she says, impatient and slow on her tongue, hopes he gets the gist. Her fingers are wrapped around his wrist and still demanding, wants to see if he's still clever enough to think straight for his tricks.

"My trousers," he pants, "remove them."

"I'm not sure you mean that." Because even though she knows she's desperate she wants to hear him.

 _"Remove them,"_ he growls.

She laughs, moving his trapped hand so she can keep him still as her free hand awkwardly tugs his trousers down.

"Why must you be so difficult even in this?" He asks.

"Why must you be so annoying?"

"I'll shut up if you do. A kiss?"

She idly thinks of removing his tunic which is bundled up just above his chest. She thinks better of it, the heat will make him more desperate. She does take her clothes off, ignoring Loki's disgruntled noises.

"I wanted to do that."

"Get over it." She says, shoving him back down when he leans forward, grasping his wrists again.

Valkyrie moans as hips jerk up in retaliation. His nails dig into her thighs, raking down her skin. She shakes him by the collar of his tunic for that. " _Fuck_..." She whines, a high keening sound in the back of her throat, face growing hot at the slip.

"Valkyrie," he groans, " _release me_."

"Fuck you and your release."

" _Please_ ," he bites out, thoroughly annoyed.

The moment she releases him he wraps an arm around her waist and flips them over. He kisses her without patience or finesse.

His long, dark lashes stick to his cheek, mouth opening in a silent moan as he slides into her. His hips stutter in shallow thrusts and she arches her back to meet them, both lost in a haze of drunken like pleasure until they realize they have to cooperate.

"I hope you no longer find me infuriating," he whispers against the shell of her ear, "seeing as I have no intention of letting you go now."

A laugh bubbles out of her throat, cut short as he nudges her thighs wider, really starts to _move_.

“Brunnhilde,” she gives in, too, her name a soft concede on the corner of his mouth.

“Brunnhilde…” he echoes with unbridled joy, fingers trailing down her back playfully. Her spine tingle at his touch, at the sound of her name on his tongue, it slides over her like the softness of the green tunic she rucks up.


End file.
